


tell me that it's all okay

by semisemi (rxtrogression)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Heartbreak, Leaving, M/M, POV Second Person, Pining, Unrequited Love, too many italics, we have so much pining iwa so here have angsty oiks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-09-19 13:45:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17002791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rxtrogression/pseuds/semisemi
Summary: It’s frustrating, really, to be close to something so completely and utterly unattainable.





	tell me that it's all okay

**Author's Note:**

> i have a calc exam on the 18th and i'm STILL spouting bullshit

_Now I'll leave it up to you_  
_Do what you gotta do_  
_Like the watch I just got for you_  
_I'll give you some time_  
_I ain't gonna wait_

 

* * *

 

It’s frustrating, really, to be close to something so completely and utterly unattainable.

 

You’ve always seen this coming. This moment exactly, where he smiles that excruciatingly sad smile of his, where your gut drops to your feet and never comes back up. This moment exactly, where your world tears apart at the seams and your one and only (because he was _your_ one and only, the only one you could have ever really settled for) safety net falls through. When he pulls away and takes those small hesitant steps away from your person (and damn him for hesitating), you start to think that even though you saw this coming, there was no way in hell you could have prepared yourself for the pain.

 

It’s mind-numbing, almost, the way his mouth opens, the way his tongue pokes out slightly, almost as if to say _sorry_ , or perhaps crueler, _goodbye_. Instead, his jaw snaps shut, and you think you want to scream.

 

“Did you ever love me?”

 

It slips out without your permission, but now that it’s out, the words sour on your tongue and clearly painful to his ears, you hold your breath and wait.

 

And wait, and wait, and wait.

 

He sighs, just a puff of smoke in the bitter winter air, and his hand moves to stretch towards you before limply falling back to his side.

 

“I have to go,” he whispers, barely audible as the wind shakes the snow from the branches above.

 

You let out a shaky breath and watch the cloud of vapor dissipate in the air before you. It’s easier than watching his back as he walks away from you. Or maybe you don’t watch your breath, and maybe you stare at the back of his black coat, a stark contrast against the indigo of the sky and the white of the park, and maybe you don’t really see anything much except for a blurry smear of colors because there’s hot tears gathering under your eyes that are impairing… well. Everything.

 

And _oh_ , he _walks_ , but the both of you know exactly what he’s doing.

 

He’s running away.

 

You bite your bottom lip, the cold suddenly making it hard to breathe, and no, no, _no_ , you can't cry, not now, not when Hajime is still meters away, wait wait wait wait wait _wait—_

-

 

“Wait up, Iwa-chan!” You shout as you bound down the street, gleeful as ever, bouncy even at ass-o-clock in the morning. Hajime hadn’t planned to walk to school with you on the first day of junior high. What was it he wanted?

 

Oh. Yes. Other friends.

 

_You’ll still be my friend, dummy! I just want to meet more people, you know?_

Hajime pointedly ignores you, even going so far as to speed up as you approach the gates of Kitagawa Daiichi. You know he’s always been stubborn, but when you skid to a stop in front of him with your cute pout on full display and his only reaction is an annoyed blink, things start to crumble in your mind, just a little. You draw your face back into something blank and silently move aside, following the other boy into the building with a weight in your shoes.

 

Just a little.

 

Hajime is _popular_. His amiable mannerisms, his athleticism, and his good nature make him an immediate hit with the rest of the boys in their class, and as the day progresses, you find it harder to swallow down the bitter jealousy in your throat. Sure, you make an acquaintance or two, but nobody special, nobody like _Hajime_. By the time the last bell of the day rings, you think you might be on the verge of tears.

 

And it’s petty, you know it’s petty, but jealousy is an ugly thing, and it twists your insides into something ugly too. Schadenfreude is all you feel as Hajime turns in his seat to _finally_ talk to you, only to narrowly avoid the swing of your bag as you heft it over your shoulder and walk down the aisle of desks. Thank the universe for not putting you on clean-up duty today; you can walk out of the classroom with whatever dignity you have left.

 

As you’re slipping on your outdoor shoes (brand new blue and white sneakers, because school pride), you feel a light tap on your shoulder. You know it’s Hajime before you turn around, because of course it’s Hajime, who else would—

 

It’s Kousuke Tashiro.

 

“Oikawa-chan, you forgot your planner.” The blond hands you the small notebook, and after you mutter out a _thanks_ , smiles amicably. Your tongue feels like sandpaper against your teeth, but you choke out a _see you tomorrow, Kousuke-chan_ as best you can and start walking down the hallway.

 

“Oi _baka_ wa, you left me behind!” You hear pounding footsteps behind you as you’re halfway across the courtyard, and surprise, surprise, it’s darling Iwa-chan.

 

(Later, you’d learn the concept of “irony” and think of this moment, your lungs constricting as something familiar stabs deep in your heart.)

 

Something ugly curls in your gut at the sound of his laugh as he catches up to you, grinning widely. He starts talking about his day, his new friends, how he’s excited for their history class, and you plaster on whatever appreciative glance you can muster when he pauses for breath, only dropping it after you slam the door shut to your house. _Tadaima_ is barely out of your mouth before the emotions of the day crash down on your shoulders, and you hightail it to your room as your mother calls out an _Okaeri_ from the kitchen. You don’t give her a chance to ask how your first day went.

 

You don’t give anybody a chance in, really. Maybe that’s why you’re starting to feel a little left behind.

 

If only he’d wait, just for a second, just to really _look_ at you and maybe _see_ (because he sees through you better than anybody), but he doesn’t seem to _want_ to wait.

 

-

 

You go back to your apartment in Tokyo and can’t find it in yourself to take down the numerous pictures of you and Hajime through the years. It’s hard; he’s _everywhere_. There are frames of the two of you as kids, as teens, as young adults. Polaroids stuck to the corkboard on the kitchen wall. His grey hoodie on the couch in the living room. Hajime’s not here, won’t be for a while, probably, so there’s ample time for you to pack a weekend’s worth of things in a duffel bag (the lame one he bought for you on your first camping trip together) and come back for the rest.

 

You’re twenty-four, a professional volleyball player, adored by fans globally, and yet, your life is in tatters as you pack your things and tell your mom that you’ll be coming home tonight.

 

Hajime returns after you finish double-checking your paperwork, and he watches silently as you unpin the Polaroids. There’s one of you at eight years old, one of the old Seijoh team, and finally, one—

 

You bite down on your lower lip again.

 

There’s you and Hajime, kissing like the both of you don’t have a care in the world, his eyes closed, his lips quirking up in a smile while you wink at the camera. That was right after graduating.

 

Now, you can’t even look him in the eyes as you gather up the courage to speak.

 

“I’m not going to apologize for—for loving you,” you manage to croak out as you pocket the Polaroids. “But I’m sorry I wasn’t good enough.”

 

Hajime looks like he might just cry as well.

 

“It wasn’t your fault,” he says, because he knows that anything he says is futile. He can’t co-exist with Tooru, not like that. He can’t sacrifice his future and his ambitions for one man. He can’t _wait_.

 

As you head out the door, you regard the love of your life in a new light. Not as the best friend you thought you’d have forever, but as the man you happened to know for a long time. He was always so beautiful, you think.

 

You wonder why he’s so ugly to you now.

 

-

 

“You’re so ugly when you cry,” Hajime kicks your door open while you’re in the middle of moping, and how _rude of—_ how _dare he—_ what kind of boy has the _audacity_ —

 

Then Hajime is bundling you up in his arms, and you’re too shocked to do anything other than freeze in confusion.

 

“I’m still your friend, you idiot. You can’t get rid of me _that_ easily.”

 

You finally regain control of your senses, and you whip around as best as you can while still a blanket roll.

 

“Best friend?”

 

Hajime’s expression doesn’t flicker as he hugs you tighter.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Forever?”

 

Maybe you imagine it, but in hindsight, maybe you don’t. His face shutters ever so minutely, and if you had blinked you would have missed it—but then he smiles that small, reserved smile of his, the one that you’ve come to associate with a serious Hajime, and you relax.

 

“Sure.”

 

-

 

You’re seventeen when you kiss him for the first time. You’re sprawled out on his bed, lazily volleying as you stare at the ceiling, and Hajime joins you in bed with a satisfied groan. It had been a long practice that day, you agree. You glance over, and there’s something so irresistible about the way Hajime’s features relax when the two of you are alone in moments like this.

 

“Hajime,” you say, and damn if his name doesn’t feel foreign on your tongue. But you’ve got his attention now, and he squints at you with the eye he doesn’t have buried in a pillow. You throw all your fucks out the window because that’s really fucking cute, and you lean in.

 

Your noses knock together awkwardly, and your lips barely brush against each other, but then Hajime’s shifting beneath you, a hand is tilting your chin up and _oh_ , there we go, that’s his tongue, that’s his bottom lip that you’re sucking gently, that’s his sharp jawline beneath your fingertips, that’s the comforting rub of his thumb against your hip.

 

“You taste sweet,” he exhales after you pull away, eyebrows furrowing slightly in concentration as he traces up your face with his index finger and tucks your hair behind your ear.

 

“You taste…” you plant another one on him because what the heck, why not. “Warm.”

 

He smiles a little at that.

 

-

 

He’s not smiling now, you think, as you take the stairs down your apartment and grip your train tickets with a white-knuckled hand.

 

So maybe you’ve been reading things wrong these past few years. Maybe he wasn’t deeply, irrevocably in love with you like in the fictitious stories you read, maybe you’re not really the protagonist, and maybe he didn’t _have_ to fall in love with you. Maybe you’re not the hero, and he’s not the love interest.

 

The thought makes you a little sad.

 

(Nobody said leaving would be this hard.)

 

-

 

“I love you,” you mumble into the fabric of his shirt. Hajime doesn’t freeze up, just adjusts the blankets around you and runs a hand through your hair.

 

“I know,” he presses a kiss on your forehead.

 

You really appreciate the Star Wars reference, and you know it means something so much deeper, because that’s Iwaizumi I-Hate-Your-Space-Movies Hajime making a reference for _you_.

 

Looking back on it now, he never really said those three words on their own, did he?

 

-

— _wait wait wait wait_ —

 

-

 

“I’ll wait for you,” eighth grade Hajime settles on the bench, watching you practice one vicious serve after the other.

 

-

 

_— Wait for me to fall out of love, at least—_

-

 

“If only you’d stop running away from me, Iwa-chan,” fifth grade you pouts.

 

-

 

You blink, and the tears dissipate a little.

 

Hajime’s gone.

**Author's Note:**

> yeah i don't really know either lol yell at/with me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/rxtrogression/)
> 
> also kudos and/or comments are appreciated ty in advance for granting me instant gratification/validation


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